


The Rain is Full of Ghosts Tonight

by Juliette1713



Category: Northern Exposure
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-06-30 12:53:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15752049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juliette1713/pseuds/Juliette1713
Summary: A letter arrives for Joel. Post 'The Quest.'  As always this picks and chooses aired elements, with me disregarding things I don't like.  This assumes nothing happened after The Quest.  And that it was mostly Maggie's dream, although Joel moved back to New York.  Briefly...





	1. Chapter 1

"Joel, honey. You've still got that mail." His mother gently tapped her fingers on the white envelope on the kitchen counter as she brought Joel a plate of scrambled eggs. 

"Ma, I know."

"Rain is really coming down now. Do you hear it? It sounds almost like tiny fingers, knocking on the window. Isn't there something that goes like that? About rain on a windowpane? 'The rain is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh upon the glass and listen for reply'."

His head snapped up, eyes angry and suspicious.  
"What made you think of that all of a sudden?" 

"What?"

"That poem? It's a little obscure, don't you think?"

"Just the rain tapping outside and your mopey mood. It's a beautiful poem. Sad, though, about things forgotten...I wouldn't call it obscure."

"It's Millay. Sonnet."

"What?"

"Edna St. Vincent Millay. A poet. Poetess. Whatever." He trailed off. He actually knew that one well. Its ending lines echoed in his mind, "I only know that summer sang in me / A little while, that in me sings no more..."

"You know, I think you're right, Joel. I'm impressed. You know your poetry, honey."

"Yeah, well." His demeanor was decidedly sullen now.

"Well..." Nadine paused, not sure how to get her son to open up, really, when he insisted on being so private about certain things. He'd been uncharacteristically chatty since he had turned up, but then this letter arrived. Since then, he'd reverted to a brooding, moody teenager again. "Cicely return address." She said, trying to tempt him to finally address the letter.

"I know." An icy irritation crept more and more into his voice."

"What if it's urgent news?"

"From Cicely, Alaska? I sincerely doubt it."

"Then open it. At least see who it's from. There's no named person on the address - just a P.O. box. Aren't you even a little curious?"

"That's everyone's address there. And I know who it's from, Mom."

"Then open it." She watched Joel shake his head tersely, impatiently, looking down at the table. He looked like he did when he was 5 at this very table when he didn't want to eat his vegetables. "She deserves to be heard, honey." 

Joel looked up at her in surprise. "Who does?"

"Oh, Joel. I know about you and Maggie." She waited to see if admitting this would cause him to finally confide in her.

Unfortunately, the shadow of inscrutability that had already started to shroud his face covered it completely now. "What exactly do you think you know?"

"Well... that you two..."

"That we two what, Mom?" His voice had that warning edge to it, matching that of his eyes. She didn't care. She was going to get this out of him, get him to start dealing with it, come hell or high water. This had gone on far too long. 

Joel held her gaze a few seconds before losing whatever nerve he'd had to look her in the eye. Without eye contact to help gauge his patience for her prying, she struggled with how to phrase her question to keep from startling him completely out of their tentative conversation. "Well...now...I talked to Marilyn a lot, you know...I still do..."

"Well you can't very know much then. About anything. I lived there 5 years, and what we said to each other in that time would struggle to fill part of a single sheet of notebook paper. Wide ruled, even.... you talked to Marilyn," he tapered off with into a defensive, sarcastic tone. 

"I did. Quite a little bit. She knows you better than you give her credit for. And she cares about you. Now. You can tell me about you and Maggie...or..."

"Or what, Mom?" He looked up again with a feisty, defiant, childish look in his eyes, his chin cocked ever so slightly. "You'll send me to my room?" 

Her eyes narrowed. "Or *I* can tell you about you and Maggie. You two had something, didn't you?"

"Ma..." She lost eye contact with him again. 

"You were dating..."

"I am not going to..."

"Sleeping together..."

"Mom!! I don't want to have this conver... "

"You moved in together."

Joel looked back at her but with eyes that had softened into something more somber, reflective. He still had that boyish look to him, intensified by the vulnerable look in his eyes. 

"And then you moved out. You can't do her the courtesy of reading her letter?"

"I 'moved out'...yeah. Well. That part of my life is behind me, Mom. Alaska. Maggie. All of it."

"Mmmm," his mother made a non-committal noise in response. 

"What?! It is, Mom. Done. Finished. Over. Gone. I'm home now. Ready to start my normal life. Like I've been waiting to do ever since I got banished to that place all those years ago."

She reached behind her for the envelope, catching it between her fingers and then sliding it across the table to him. "Then what harm will it do? Since you're so certain."

He didn't move to pick it up, at first, continuing to push uneaten food around his plate. Finally, though, he put his fork down, lifted the envelope, and slipped his finger along its closure to rip it open. "If it'll get you to stop talking to me - and apparently Marilyn - about this, I'll look...how is she, by the way?" 

"Maggie?"

"Marilyn! Marilyn, Mom. Marilyn. How is she?"

"Fine. Turns up to your office every day like clockwork."

"Probably practicing medicine without a license again. Hope Maurice is still paying for malpractice insurance on that damn office. And looking for another sucker to hook for that job."

"She's engaged."

He couldn't help smiling. "Really?!" The envelope was open now, but he'd stopped his work there. He found he was genuinely grateful for news from Cicely and had stopped to give the conversation due attention. Marilyn, engaged! 

"Yes. To that man Ted she's been seeing. Just last week. She's very excited. So are her folks."

Joel chuffed, "I can't quite picture what that would even look like, Marilyn excited...huh." Smiling to himself, he finally removed the letter. He paused, confused. His face even registered a little disappointment. 

"What is it, Joel?"

"It's not from Maggie..." He scanned the first few lines of text and looked up. His eyes had a faraway look in them again, as if he were searching deep in his memory. "Soapy."

"What?"

"Soapy. A man, by the name of Soapy Sanderson. Died a long time ago. When I first moved to Cicely. He sent this."

He picked the envelope back up from where it had fallen to the table, and he turned it to examine its addressing and postal markings more closely. The handwriting on the envelope he didn't recognize - it certainly wasn't O'Connell's, unless she'd gone to a lot of trouble to disguise hers. And had gone crazy. It wasn't Soapy's either - it didn't match the scrawl on the pages inside. The address had an unfamiliar slant to its letters, precise and flowing. The listed return P.O. box was indeed Ruth-Anne's general delivery address for the town. The postmark was from 8 days prior, stamped in Anchorage. 

"He's written you here when he passed away years ago? I'm not sure I understand..."

"That makes two of us, Ma..."

He moved to unfold the letter, and his mom put her hand to his, stilling it. 

"Joel. Stop. What did happen with you and Maggie? Please. I know we don't talk deeply like this. You didn't even tell me it had been going on...But don't you think it's time you talk to someone about it?"

"Talk to someone.. Mom... I've done all the talking through this I can stand to. I lived in the wilderness for 6 weeks, talking to myself about it until I came to a point of closure, inner peace over it all. Then I got released and got to come home. And she lives there. End of story."

His mother hardened her eyes again and raised an eyebrow in response, and he knew enough to know he owed her at least the abridged version. 

"Okay. We started seeing each other, yes. Whatever constitutes dating in a town of 800 with almost nowhere to go 'out.' We were together. Sort of. On and off. It never stayed on long enough or strong enough to feel like I had anything worth telling you. Plus, well, I mean, you know she's not Jewish, Ma, right? It's not like we were gonna end up... So then I - briefly - moved into her place. We lived together all of 3 days. She kicked me out almost as soon as I'd unpacked. I was exhausting, apparently. Or just am, by nature. We don't work. So it's over. Is that what you want to know?"

"I'm just grateful to know something about it. You know...I had to hear about Elaine from Mrs. Shulman...

"I told you about it!"

"Eventually. Everyone knew by then. And I'd heard from her two weeks before you sent word. And when you did tell me, you did it by letter..."

"She told *me* by letter, Mom!"

"Even so...were you two together when your father and I visited?"

"What? Oh, O'Connell and...No. Yes. A little, I guess. I told you, it came and went. I'm not even sure of when we started up. Minus certain parts that I'm absolutely not going to discuss with you..." Nadine smiled to herself, amused by causing her adult son to blush. He continued rambling. 

"To some extent whatever we had was there almost from when I first moved there, and it kind of ebbed and flowed, intensified over time. Mom, it's complicated. All of it."

"These things usually are. The good ones anyway... Joel, dear. I know you better than you give me credit for, too. I knew when we visited. You seemed sweet on her and very secretive about it. I should have just asked you then, but you seemed set on keeping us in the dark on that trip so I played along... She told me, though."

"Oh perfect. Of course she did; that's O'Connell for you. She has no sense of boundaries. She traps people in that little plane of hers and the secrets and personal details just flow freely..."

"I'm talking about Marilyn again. *She* told me. Long ago. Maggie didn't say a thing on either flight to even hint that you were together. Believe me, I was dying to know and on the hunt for details, too." She smiled at him, thinking of how silly it was to have to surveil her own son's girlfriend.

"I'm glad my life is such a source of entertainment for you."

"I liked her, Joel. A lot."

He shrugged but she saw the hint of a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

"I also know that it was Maggie who asked you to move out. And that you moved to that village..."

"Monanash."

"Mmmm... and that you're in love with her, my dear... and that you never told her..."

Joel gave her a sharp look, picking the letter up as his mom continued. "And that she is too..."

"Marilyn filled you in on all of that, did she? She knows all these things somehow, huh? Things that aren't even...look, I just want to read this and be done with Cicely." He shook the paper to unfold it with more force than was required. He'd let the letter change the subject for him. She'd finally pushed him past the outer boundaries of his comfort zone.

He sighed in frustration and started reading to himself. 

_"Dear Dr. Fleischman, ___

_"First, let me thank you for the excellent care you gave. You are truly a promising and caring young physician, son. A little brusque, perhaps, with your bedside manner, but maturity will sand those edges down with time._

"What does it say, Joel, this letter from the deceased?" Nadine broke in, jarring his silent contemplation and reflection.

____"This man killed himself."_ _ _ _

____"Oh no..."_ _ _ _

______ _ _

"No, Mom, no. Long ago. Years ago. I told you - he was a patient I had when I first moved there. He'd fallen and was recovering from a fracture. He wouldn't do his PT work that I gave him. Wouldn't listen to me and learn to take it easy. Move to town. Get an in-home aide. Stop chopping his own wood and scaling his roof and God knows what else. Slow down...stop joyriding around Alaska with O'Connell. He killed himself the next day because of what I said. He didn't want to live like that..."

"Oh dear...you never told me... What does his letter say?"

Joel reread aloud for her what he'd read thus far and continued. She smiled at the compliments paid to her son. She knew the person he could be, but she hardly knew anymore how others saw him, particularly in his professional capacity. He'd been away so long and had become so closed off to her.

_"Second, I'd like to reassure you my death isn't your fault. I know my actions could be seen to imply as much, but I harbor no ill will towards you for doing your job and speaking the level truth to me. I didn't want to hear it, but I needed to. You and Maggie both told me yesterday that I couldn't continue on the way I always had. I had to consider my future, and I did. And I want to thank you." ___

____

"O'Connell told him, too?" he murmured to himself.

"What honey?"

"Nothing... nothing. Let's see...okay...He picked up at the next paragraph.

_"Third and finally - you and Ms. O'Connell. I'm disappointed in you, Doctor. And her. While I won't and can't take full credit for the two of you, I'd like to think I sowed the seeds of your relationship with my bequest. Or, rather, irrigated what had already been sown by the two of you." ___

____

Nadine broke in. "What does he mean there? His 'bequest'?"

"Ma...I...okay. He left us this land and some dogs and a bottle of wine, knowing we'd drink it together and then..." Joel answered distractedly, his eyes glancing up to check the date at the top of the letter - 1990. The year Soapy'd died. The year Joel had moved to Alaska. 

"Drink it together and...Oh! Oh my..."

"Mom! Nothing like that happened! I was with Elaine then. O'Connell just came over and made me dinner and we drank this incredible, expensive wine this guy left us in his will. We didn't argue for a few hours, and here Soapy wants to act like it was some breakthrough he foisted upon us and foundational to some kind of a relationship between us." His face briefly betrayed to his mother's observant eye that he was skipping significant details in this retelling. And that this man, the letter's author, was somehow correct in his assessment. Joel continued reading. 

_"I'm not surprised you left. That you voluntarily walked away from love. From Maggie. From a life together. No, I'm not surprised, but I am disappointed." ___

____

"You say this man passed away years ago?" Nadine's eyes were wide, looking across the table at her son. 

"1990," he said, still distracted, before continuing with the letter. 

_"I assume you left because there are no longer legalities which bind you to Alaska." ___

__

__

"That's hardly why I left," Joel muttered before reading on.

_"I'd wager she asked you to leave and you complied - left without a fight and without telling her how you feel. You simply stand by and react unhappily to the world as it moves around you. And now, while no legal document holds you within this state, there is Maggie O'Connell. And that's a tie that binds, as you well know. ___

_"If this letter has found you, it's as a result of the last of my testamentary instructions to Holling and my desire to meddle. You've made a mistake and gone back to New York. I told you about feisty women, son - they never get boring, but Maggie's a complicated creature. She doesn't know what to do with a man she can't control. She needs to know how you feel and that you won't leave her. Even if she asks you to. Go home. Tell her the truth. Alaska is a state of mind, Doctor. Fondly yours..."_

"Well." Joel matter of factly folded the letter back up and put it into its envelope. 

His mother watched his face as he worked to do so. He was so familiar but so foreign to her all at once, her own son. His guard was back up, she could see in his face. Emerging unexpectedly from a cab two weeks ago as she'd been gardening out front, she'd hardly recognized him. His hair was long, a patchy beard covered his face. Even after he'd gotten a haircut and shaved, though, he looked so different to her. Calmer. Relaxed. Without that nervous guarded expression he usually had. The arrival of this letter two days ago erased much of that, at least when he was in sight of it. It faded into an empty sadness she hadn't noticed when he'd first arrived. He'd obviously worked to make his peace with losing her, and it was clear he didn't expect to have to work through it again. Until the letter arrived.

"Well?" She knew she was pressing her luck, that she'd long overstayed her welcome in this conversation. 

"Well, what? Letter from a psychotic. A dead psychotic. Offering me personal advice from beyond the grave."

"He seems to know you both well enough to have envisioned this future quite accurately. Are you going to go?"

"Where, back?! No! I've been released - finally. I'll stay here with you and Dad until I can find a place in the city. I promise it won't be much longer, Mom."

"Don't get me wrong, I love having you here again, but Joel? You think you can be happy here? You've changed so much. Don't you think you should go to Cicely? Move back... home?"

"Home?!" He bristled at the implication and stood abruptly to clear his plate from the table. "What I'm gonna do is to go shower, get dressed. Head into the city and start working on getting on with a practice somewhere. Something other than sit here and talk about that place." His eyes were downcast, avoiding her. She wished again she'd raised him to be a better sharer, to express his emotions more comfortably. That he'd had a sibling and not felt so forced to always appear that he was without flaws. They never really talked like this when he was growing up - of course he didn't want to share with her now. Had this closed off nature been what Maggie had gotten from him, too? Or he managed to open up to her?

Marilyn had been clear with Nadine in her assessment - that Joel and Maggie, against their own will, absolutely loved each other. But that neither quite knew that. Not consistently anyway. They were both focused on that Joel was going to leave. They got along best when they forgot about that. If she'd loved him, surely she'd seen something of the man Nadine knew him to be and not just his cranky rebellion against his contract and the inevitability of his future in Cicely. And he clearly felt something strong about her, to be this defensive. To move to wilderness in response to a breakup. It had been strong enough this man he said he barely knew perceived it in them half a decade ago. She had ask him, though. Make him say it out loud. Maybe Marilyn was right and even he didn't know. 

"Do you love her Joel?"

He glanced up, meeting her eye briefly, angrily, exhaling loudly before turning to stalk out of the kitchen. He stopped abruptly in the doorway. His posture slowly changed - his shoulders sank down and his head hung forward. His hand darted up to rub his cheekbones and the outer corners of his eyes. He'd done that when he felt overwhelmed since when he'd first learned to walk. 

"Yes," he said softly, sighing, his back still to her. He turned to lean his back against the doorframe, lifting his chin and looking at the painted wood above him. He took in a long breath. "I do, Mom....I can't make myself get past this. What should I do?"

He looked again like a younger version of himself, his body language unguarded, unsure. He'd looked at her after asking and his eyes were searching, sad. He was asking her for advice - he hadn't on anything serious since he was small. And never once about women.

"I think you should tell her so, honey. Stop being so passive and letting life just happen to you. I think you know you need to move home."


	2. Chapter 2

Maggie slid onto a barstool at the Brick. 

"Morning Maggie!" Shelly greeted her cheerfully. "Mail run today?"

"Already done, actually." 

"Wow! You must have gotten up real early. Coffee?"

"Mmm, please." She hummed. "How's Randi?"

"Good, good. She did the cutest thing yesterday, Maggie, you should have seen it! She put on H's hat and boots and walked around dressed up 'like Daddy.' She could hardly lift her legs to step they were so heavy!"

Maggie smiled in response.

"Ruth-Anne said you got a card from Dr. F. yesterday! How's he doin'?"

Here we go again, Maggie thought to herself. Even so, she drew the card from the inside pocket of her coat, showing Shelly its image and feigned a cheerful voice. "He's back home."

"New York City! Bitchin'..." She took the card from Maggie's hands to look at the snapshot of the city skyline. "Where's the statue of liberty?"

"Other direction I think..." Maggie reached for the card protectively, defensively. She hadn't been quick enough. Shelly had turned it over. 

"New York is a state of mind...ain't that true...and..*Love* Joel?"

She looked up at Maggie in surprise. "Is it that serious between you two now? I know the sex was good, but you two were...wow...No wonder you've been so bummed."

Maggie's grab was better this time. "No, Shelly. No. There is no 'now'. He moved home." She tapped the card on the bar with each word to emphasize her point. "Ya know?" She tucked it back into her coat.

"Sorry, Maggie."

"Oh don't be... I'm sorry I sounded defensive, Shel. I just..."

"Miss him?" Shelly cocked her head to the side sympathetically.

"Joel Fleischman? No."

Shelly's reaction face made her feel like a terrible person. 

"I mean yes, of course, a little bit, but...no. It's complicated...What's on for breakfast today, huh?"

"Hmmm. Gotta check with H real quick. Hold on. I'm sure he'll be back, though, Mag. Dr. F., I mean."

She retreated to the kitchen, leaving Maggie in a contemplative quiet. Every conversation she had had for the last month and a half had gone that way, just about. Her, trying to not talk about Joel, and whoever she was talking to assuming she was some wealth of knowledge and interest on the topic of Joel. Then an impromptu amateur assessment of their relationship based on whatever incomplete view her conversational partner had had of it. Not that she didn't need to talk to someone about him - she did, badly - but no one in town could even begin to understand. Not even Ruth-Anne. People kept oversimplifying it. She had been done discussing it weeks ago, too. Eager to start the process of moving on. Problem was no one in town saw her as separate from Joel anymore, ironically given that this was the very time they were the most apart they'd ever been. She'd kicked him out, ended it, and he moved away - first to Monanash and finally home to New York. 

Shelly returned, Holling in tow. "H says we've got scones with marmalade special today."

"What?"

"Eugene's back from London and has some new recipes he's been trying out" she said, picking her coffee pot up. "Be glad it's not blood pudding." She made a face and flitted out from behind the bar to warm up half empty mugs around the restaurant. 

"I'm not sure I go in for those scones, though, Maggie." Holling added, in his gentle drawl. "They're not bad - just very dry. Not much flavor to 'em. No amount of marmalade seems to help it either. Meant to have with tea, I think."

"I'll just have two eggs, scrambled, and some toast, thanks." Maggie said.

"Fair enough," he made a note in his pad. He looked cautiously back at Shelly, as she chatted and filled mugs. "Oh, and I have something for you," his voice was quieter than before. He took the order to the kitchen and returned, retrieving a white envelope from under the bar. He tapped his finger on it after setting it down. "Now, far be it from me to tell you how to read your own mail, Maggie, but if the prying eyes and ears in this bar are bothersome to you...well, I'd say you'd do well to make your breakfast a to-go order today." He nodded slightly in Shelly's direction. 

"Why? Who's it from?"

He pushed the envelope across the bar and said, "I'll just get you a box so you can take it with you. Grape or strawberry?"

"What?" Maggie was looking at the envelope, but it was devoid of any clues, blank but for her name scrawled there by Holling.

"For your breakfast toast."

"Oh, strawberry. Thank you." She paused. "Is this from Joel?"

The corner of Holling's mouth turned up ever so slightly but he shook his head. "No...but I believe it may have to do with him in some manner or other." 

"Have to do with who, H?" Shelly chirped, back from her rounds.

"Just, uh, Red." Maggie said quickly. "He's had engine trouble all week. I think he left this updated schedule for his flights. I'm helping cover. I will take that order to go Holling, thank you."

He left and returned with a bag. "Napkins and plasticware inside, Maggie." He gave her a fond and fatherly smile. "Have a good day."

"See ya, Mag!" Shelly added.

Maggie left the Brick, envelope tucked next to Joel's card in her coat. She walked down Main Street in the newly falling rain, toward his building. Surely Marilyn would let her borrow his old office - no one was using it at this point - to read in peace. She was the least likely to ask probing questions, too.

The closer she got to Joel's office, the more the letter had burned a hole in her pocket and quickened her step. His former office, she corrected her thinking. 

Inside, it was largely the same as always. Still no paint and devoid of anything resembling normal medical office decor. Never did a Norman Rockwell painting grace these walls. Marilyn greeted her as she entered, like always. There was even a patient in the waiting room. She leaned in to speak quietly to Marilyn. 

"Does he know he's gone?"

"Yes. He's comes every day at 1 o'clock to wait in case he comes back in."

"Shouldn't you tell him he won't?"

"He'll be back," Marilyn said placidly. Poor Marilyn and her endless patience for Joel's bullshit. She hoped someone was at least paying her for her time.

"Well. Okay, since he's definitely not here today, can I borrow his office for ten minutes? I need to read this and really concentrate."

Marilyn shrugged. Maggie took it as a yes and entered Joel's empty office. All the non-medical items (and even a fair number of those) were gone. His desk and chairs remained, and there was a mostly empty bookshelf along the wall. Even with so much missing, she felt a pang, recalling all that had happened between these walls. She found she felt that way a lot anymore. 

_There are a hundred places where I fear  
To go, - So with his memory they brim. ___

Millay's words flashed in her mind, as did the book he'd given her. And his scrawled, affectionate inscription. She shook her head as if to shake the memories away, plopped down in his chair, and pulled out Holling's letter. The desk lamp was long gone, so she had to make due with the light the the window provided.

She opened his desk drawers to see if he had a letter opener. One too many paper cuts made her reluctant to drag her finger along the inside anymore, if she could help it.

What if the letter was a follow up to his postcard? Another request, insinuation that she move to New York? She didn't want to leave Cicely, she was certain of that. This was her place. But, despite the weeks that had passed since he'd left, her empty feeling hadn't lessened any. Which was worrying. She'd tried her usual closure tactics (minus a diorama - she couldn't think of building one for him with a straight face), but she didn't feel any further along down a healing path. If she had to be honest, she was really unhappy, isolated, without him, even in Cicely. Maybe she should go. She couldn't stay much longer if she kept feeling like this. She'd been happiest when they just ignored what might have to happen in the future when choices had to be made. Just focused on the present.

Truth be told, she knew she had been a little unfair, unreasonable. It was just too much too fast without knowing what was to come. She'd come to expect his passiveness, inaction. They'd never even tried to define what they were doing together, never even done it consistently, and then all of a sudden he'd been talking marriage, and she'd found herself suggesting living together. How could she possibly commit to someone whose sole joy was thinking about imminently moving away from her, though? Especially when, before that, she hadn't always been sure from day to day whether they were even together. Then they were suddenly hanging their clothes side by side? She'd said he was exhausting, but, really, he'd been very calm, very settled, very happy after moving in. Minus the gun thing.

Her mind, though, had been spinning constantly those last days, thinking about what was going to happen next, when his contract ran out. God forbid they discuss it because she knew it'd be over then. He'd ask her to come to New York, she'd say she wouldn't go, and that would be it. Sure, he was neurotic and she was bossy and they bickered still, and very often didn't see eye to eye, but it was playful banter between them. When she set the future aside, she'd found that she loved being with him, living with him. She knew she was in love - reality just didn't align with her feelings. Ignoring their future was exhausting, not him. And she couldn't do it with him there all the time.

She'd gotten lost in her thoughts again. She refocused on finding a letter opener. Somehow his desk drawer had escaped being raided thus far. To be fair, there was nothing of value inside. Broken pencils. Stray pens. Loose change. A couple of tongue depressers he'd clearly chewed on nervously and then hidden in this drawer. Out of character, given how unsanitary that was and how tidy he had usually been. An old JAMA with its bookmark still in place. A package of floss. She rolled her eyes - he was so fastidious about his teeth. A post-it note with her handwriting on it - "See you tonight -M." She smiled. She remembered leaving him that stuck to his door...and the evening that followed. He'd kept the note? That was sweet... She was getting too easily distracted. 

The letter. A pen might work to open it in a pinch. She pulled one out and tore open the envelope jaggedly. No paper cuts, at least.

The handwriting wasn't Joel's - she could see that right away as she slid the sheet out. She pushed aside a pang of disappointment - Holling had said it wasn't anyway - and opened the letter.

_My dear Maggie, ___

_I hope this letter reaches you in good health. I'm sorry it is reaching you at all, but, as with Joel, I'm not terribly surprised. You are two of the stubbornest people I've ever encountered._

_I never told you, but you reminded me so much of my wife. She was stubborn, too. You were so prodigiously kind to me in my later years and I could never thank you enough for that. But seeing you often felt like seeing glimpses of my wife again, which I cannot begin to thank you for, either._

_You and she sang your own songs and were your own people. You took chances my wife never did but should have. But, my dear, you never did take chances with love. You always picked men with whom it would never last because you refused to be with anyone you'd be broken to lose. Your need to control everything, never relax and let fate take its course - your only real failing, as I can see it, but a terrible one to bear nonetheless. It's one I had to overcome myself which is why can see it so easily in you._

_I tried to set things into motion some, with you and your Doctor Joel. With the land, the wine. Especially that wine. I know I'm right about this, if only you two would stop fighting it and agree with me._

_You are receiving this letter pursuant to my last will and testament because you've again taken the safe route and pushed him away, someone you'll last with. You have to be honest and tell him the truth, just as he must with you. You're lucky, though; you'll both get one more chance to take the right path._

_When Joel returns, hear him, believe him, and take a chance on something you can't control. Be brave. Sing your own song, my dear, but have an audience who loves you there who can hear it being sung. Take care of yourself Maggie. Fondly yours, Soapy._


	3. Chapter 3

The raindrops left trails that lingered on the window as they dripped down the outside. The force of the air passing angled their path some, but the water's surface tension held the trail together long after the droplet had slid away. It had also been raining when he took off out of JFK. From Seattle, too. Of course, rain streaked much faster along a jet's windows than on this bus. 

Long past were the days when one could fly direct to Anchorage, even out of New York City - like his first flight here, all those years ago. That was before the airlines had fully finished deregulating and implemented hub and spoke systems where almost every flight required a connection. He'd had a 4 hour layover in Seattle, after his almost 6 hour flight getting there. It had been another 3 hours more into Anchorage. With the travel time and the jet lag, he figured he'd be better off sleeping as he took the overnight bus on that last leg towards Cicely. Towards home. Towards her.

He could have arranged a faster route - a flight from Anchorage. But it seemed fitting to return in the same manner in which he'd first come. Retrace those steps. Plus, he couldn't trust word of his arrival not to get back to her through the world's gossipiest aviation network. Ed, he could trust. He'd be waiting for him at the bus stop, just as he'd done 5 years ago.

Ed had been characteristically low key, when Joel had called, said he was coming back. "Oh good, Dr. F," he'd said in response to the reveal. "I think my toenail's gotten infected." He'd promised secrecy at least, if lacking in exuberance. Joel didn't need fanfare.

He'd finally realized back in Monanash that he really didn't need much to be satisfied with life. Maggie'd sort of given him that gift by kicking him out. He'd be the first to admit he'd been high strung before. Pissed at his circumstances and that, in Cicely, he lacked all external measure of success. He impressed no one. He'd graduated from Columbia Med, and people who couldn't even find New York on a map couldn't have cared less about his credentials, his academic pedigree. It had made him furious in Cicely, which didn't help at all that he was bound there by the threat of jail. By Monanash, he'd come to stop caring. Certainly about breaking his contract but also about how other people saw him. His background made no difference there, in terms of how well respected he was - by his patients or himself. All that informed others' views of him was what he could do to help and how kind he was in how he treated people. He realized that was really all that really mattered. As a doctor or a person. It didn't take too long to realize that wasn't unique to Monanash and perhaps that was all that ever really mattered in life. 

Not to say that he didn't miss the creature comforts of civilization. He relished being back in New York, to a point. All thoughts of life upriver disappeared momentarily when he was reunited with a real pastrami on rye. He'd bought an overpriced last minute ticket to a Yankees game. Walked around the reservoir in Central Park. Even so, he couldn't shake the notion that everything felt foreign, fleeting, temporary. It felt like a visit and not a homecoming. 

His parents had been overjoyed to see him. Well, his mom had. He helped her in the garden, they took walks together, and talked more those first days back than they had in 10 years - even before Alaska. Their topics had been safe, light, until that letter arrived. She fed him constantly, seeing in him that emaciation that only Jewish mothers can. His dad, of course, had been glad to see him, too, but they'd always related to each other differently. Joel pitched in on projects around the house, spent time with him, listening to his dad tell him why his every home repair instinct was still wrong. Even still, he could tell his dad had been quietly impressed that his skillset had improved. If only modestly.

With everything he did, though, he missed O'Connell. And then Soapy's letter had come. He thought it had been from her, at first, apologizing for the breakup again. Promising another chance "some day" - one she didn't mean to really follow through with. So he'd left it on the kitchen countertop long enough for it to seep into his psyche and undo all the zen Monanash had sown within him. He'd been snappish and cranky and short, just like before.

When he finally opened it, he'd found relationship advice, psychological advice, from beyond the grave. From someone who seemed to know him - at least as he related to Maggie - better than he knew himself. It took his mother making him say the words aloud, though, for him to realize. He finally admitted he was in love with O'Connell.

Once that came out, everything else about them tumbled out of his mouth too. Well, everything he could discuss and feel decent about with his mom. So not the barn thing. Or the gun thing. But most of everything else. She listened and said it sounded like two people who weren't ready to be honest with each other or themselves. She reiterated her advice at the end - that she hoped he'd come back to visit again, but that he needed to move back to Alaska. Tell Maggie he loved her and was going to stay. She helped him get new clothes and pack his bags and kissed his cheek when she'd left him at the airport the next day.

He was terrified O'Connell would tell him to go again, but his mother smiled a wistful smile and told him that sometimes you just have to be brave and fight for what you want. And that fighting should be easy for the two of them. That she suspected Maggie loved him too and probably didn't want to say it first, especially to someone who'd never once indicated that they'd be willing to stay with her and be happy in Cicely. Someone who had come with a built-in departure date they enthusiastically counted down each day.

As the scenery became more and more familiar outside his window, his worries began to fade. He stopped feeling itinerant, like a traveler. It felt like he was on his way home. And he was entirely happy about it. And he couldn't wait to see her again. Or Cicely, he was amazed to admit.

The bus turned a corner and a pickup truck was waiting there, Ed visible in the cab through the rain. He was home.


	4. Chapter 4

The route from Sitka had been smooth until she'd decided to deviate a little from the plotted course. The moment she'd asked air traffic control for permission to make a long, wide loop near the peaks, the bumps had begun. Now, as the plane pivoted along the range, the pockets were much more frequent. Her plane rattled and squeaked through the rough air. She couldn't help but picture Joel, clinging to the handle on the roof, wincing with each unexpected sound or motion, blaming her, as if she had any control over the laws of thermodynamics. 

She remembered flying here with him after Soapy died. They'd argued that morning, about the night before. She'd told him it was because she was overwhelmed with the notion that she'd reminded Soapy of his wife, and that it had nothing to do with him. That hadn't been entirely true...or even mostly true. Overcome though she was to realize how much she had meant to Soapy, she was hurt that Joel had so eagerly embraced the notion that the night had simply been about a drunken lowering of their - mostly her - inhibitions. 

She'd trusted Soapy, having realized what he had been trying to orchestrate. She'd admitted to herself that her feelings for Joel were more complex than simple irritation - more complex, even, than wanting someone because they were so completely her opposite. Something about him drew her in. After dinner, while they talked and laughed and drank that damn wine, she realized Soapy might know her better than she knew herself. That she absolutely had feelings for Joel. And that he seemed to have some for her as well. So when he'd politely closed the door on sex and blamed it all on wine the next morning, she'd been mortified and hurt. 

Even so, he didn't object too strongly to boarding her plane with the ashes as they set off for these beautiful mountains. His way of making amends. She smiled recalling Joel's abject horror, covered in what remained of Soapy. It couldn't be possible, of course, but she liked to think Soapy'd planned that, too - the wind torturing Joel a bit longer like that. Their last act as coexecutors. "And now he's gone home," she reminded herself, "so stop thinking about him."

Another bump caused her to fall fifty feet and then be pushed back up again, all within a few seconds. She was banking gently and worked to hold her arc as she continued the slow turn. It was spitting rain, even at altitude. She could see the peaks through the patchy low clouds, but the view was still worth the extra ten minutes the loop took. 

She straightened out for her run into Cicely and radioed that she was headed in. She watched the raindrops stream up the windshield leaving tails behind them as they went. Another big drop came out of nowhere, the mail bags behind her falling forward to hit the back of her seat, even though she'd tied and secured them before takeoff. Catalogues, cards, and envelopes spilled across the front passenger seat, the smooth paper causing the pile to flow in a wave almost like water. She rolled her eyes at the thought of having to round it all up again when she landed.

On top was a GQ magazine, addressed to Dr. Joel H. Fleischman. She started her initial descent and smiled, thinking how Marilyn always swiped his publications. She'd been reading one the day Maggie had last taken this route with Soapy and they'd been late to his appointment. The day before he'd died. Joel had made some sarcastic crack about sitting around watching her read his catalog before pompously reminding that he was too important to be kept waiting.

She remembered being angry at herself for feeling a strange sense of infatuation for him in that moment. Not because of his inflated sense of self but his childish insistence on being taken seriously by her. He worked harder at trying to impress her than he did with anyone else, and she remembered quite distinctly feeling something for him in that moment. Fondness. A mild attraction. She was horrified to admit that his petulance drew her in, made her unable to resist engaging. She wanted nothing more than to wind him up and see more of it. Like kids teasing their crush on a playground. So she'd yelled at him, both out of irritation and a perverse enjoyment she got out of it. She overheard Soapy laughing at them from Joel's exam room. She really had to stop thinking about Joel - it was more than time to move on.

The plane moved again unexpectedly, being lifted quickly before plummeting down and stabilizing. Bizarre air currents today, she thought. Normally turbulence didn't bother her, but she was glad to already be making visual contact with her airfield and almost in. Her radio crackled, her signal seemed to cross briefly with another frequency.

"-ggie. Maggie."

She radioed back, "Cessna 4423 Victor. Please repeat."

"Maggie." Strange. ATC never used first names. She doubted they even knew hers, despite her frequent flights through this airspace. 

"This is Maggie. Go ahead."

"Did you get my letter Maggie?"

Her imagination was playing tricks on her. "Sorry I don't think I caught that. This is Cessna 4423 Victor. I'm on a south southeast heading towards Cicely airstrip on final. Is there something..."

"Tell him yes, Maggie. Goodbye, dear."

The radio crackled again and another voice came through, "Sitka ATC, go ahead Cessna 4423." 

"Uh...did you hear that? Someone was on this frequency just now."

"Didn't hear a thing. Do you need anything Cessna?"

"No...no...uh, thanks. On short final now. Over."

What the hell had that been? 'Did you get my letter?' The coincidence was too eerie - she'd just flown past Soapy's peaks and been thinking of their last meeting. And she'd gotten that letter he'd left a few days ago. The one with a far-too-accurate view of what would have been the future when it had been written. 'Tell him yes'? Who, Soapy?

She focused on landing, angling her plane's nose to touch her wheels to Cicely's landing strip. She rolled to a slow speed and pulled near the building that constituted the airport. Only then did she see him, leaning against her truck, watching her through sunglasses as she maneuvered the plane into its makeshift parking spot. It couldn't possibly be the person she knew she saw.


	5. Chapter 5

"Where to, Dr. F?" Ed asked cheerfully. 

"O'Connell's." 

"Oh she's not here this morning. She had a long morning, Juneau then Sitka and back. She's picking up a new projector for the movie theater. Mail, too. She's still flying."

"Okay....well, Maurice's then. I probably need to go beg my old job off of him." Joel grinned. 

Maurice hadn't taken much convincing. Of course, he didn't tell Joel how much time over the past several weeks he'd poured into begging and calling in favors, only to come up short on a replacement doctor - even a temporary one. He just said the job was his and promised Joel a little more pay and even some vacation time as a show of good faith for the voluntary nature of the new contract. It was a handshake deal which Joel knew enough to know wasn't legally binding. He also knew that wasn't a concept that mattered in Cicely. 

Maurice couldn't let him leave without a bodily threat, of course. "You run off upstream again, and I'll be the one to come retrieve you this time," he'd said, polishing the long barrel of a collectible rifle that normally hung on his wall. "We understand each other, son?"

"I don't think it's going to come to that, but I appreciate your show of force, Maurice." Joel tried to keep from grinning at Maurice's theatrics, to look appropriately cowed.

"Good! You patched things up with Maggie, then, already?"

Joel dodged the question. "I'll start back Monday, Maurice. I've got some other things to arrange first. Ed, let's head to my office to put my bags down there. Tell Marilyn I'm back. "

"Oh she already knew you were coming. But I've got to get to Ruth-Anne's soon to get the canned vegetables unpacked and inventoried. It's Thursday..."

They parked outside Ruth-Anne's store and parted ways with Joel promising to look at Ed's toe when Ed had some time. No specifics were set beyond that. Ed would find him, like he did. Probably at an inopportune time. 

Joel entered his office. 

"You're late." Marilyn greeted him quietly. 

Joel smiled at the sight of her and at her decidedly understated greeting. "Very, very late...yeah. What are you doing here, Marilyn?" He came to the desk and tapped the magazine she was browsing through. "I mean, there is no job, you know" he said playfully. That earned him a rare smile, although she didn't look up. 

"Your stuff's all gone."

"Gone?!" He left and looked into the exam room and office with alarm. "Gone where? Oh my God!" his voice echoed through the hallways as he confirmed her claim.

"People took it. You left. Maggie said you moved home."

He stomped back up front. "Took my blood pressure cuff? My microscope? My pamphlets about hernias and osteoporosis? Why?"

"You left," she said simply.

"So it's all fair game, somehow? You people and property ownership! Tell me this, if I was assumed to be gone for good, why did you keep turning up?"

"I knew you'd be back. Someone needed to watch the office."

"Watch it get looted? Yeah, good thinking, thanks a lot, Marilyn."

"You're welcome."

He stood in his waiting room, trying to decide what to do next. 

"She lands at 1."

"Huh?"

"Maggie. She gets back from Sitka at 1."

Joel smiled. "Thanks, Marilyn." He started towards the door and then stopped, returning to the desk. "Congratulations, by the way. My mom told me. Ted's a nice guy."

"You can be in the wedding if you want." He'd missed the thoughtful, rolling cadence to her speech.

He smiled. "Sure thing, Marilyn. I owe you. Hey, say hi to my mom when she inevitably calls later today. Tell her I got here safely, and that I'll call her soon. And maybe just consider in the future not telling her every little thing you happen to observe about my private life. Just as a thought. Oh, and order replacements of what's been stolen, will you? Please? I can't run a medical practice without some of that. Even here." 

"Good luck with Maggie."

"See you, Marilyn."

Joel walked out, turning towards Ruth-Anne's. He needed to ask Ed to borrow his truck. Or whoever's truck it was that Ed was driving today. Which, given that Ed probably took it from someone without asking really called into question whether Joel really needed permission to take it next. Either way, he did need a key. The bell tinkled as he entered the store. 

"Well I'll be. Look who it is."

"Hi Ruth-Anne. How've you been?"

"Quite well, thank you. Glad to see you again." She'd come around from behind the counter to give him a hug.

"Now, at the risk of seeming unwelcoming, Joel, may I ask what you're doing back here? In Cicely? I thought you moved home."

"Not until now, Ruth-Anne. Ed, can I borrow your truck? I mean whoever's truck you have in your possession today? I need to get out to the airstrip by one."

"Oh sorry, Dr. Fleischman. Eugene just left in it. Moving a couch."

"Ah. Well..."

"Holling will take you, I'm sure, if you just need someone to run you out that way," Ruth-Anne supplied. She paused, trying to be careful in how she worded things. "I'm sure Maggie'll be...interested to see you again. Although this seemed a quick visit, with you already flying back out. When did you get here?" 

"You said it before Ruth-Anne - I moved home. I'll see you." He turned and walked back out her door.

"He sure seemed happier than he was most days here. I'm not so sure how Maggie will feel seeing him again, though. Especially for so short a time and now with her flying him out..." Ruth-Anne had a small frown and turned to face Ed. "Does she even know he's here?"

"Not yet."

"And he's going to turn up to have her fly him back? Oh, I imagine we'll hear her read him the riot act all the way from here! I do believe she's still struggling with saying goodbye from before, poor thing, and I don't think she's terribly eager to have to start all over again."

"Oh he's not leaving, though. No, he moved back for good. Here, to Cicely. Maurice just gave him his job back before we came here."

"Ed! Oh, why didn't you say before?!"

"I was trying to get those cans counted and back on the shelf. It's inventory day."

Ruth-Anne walked to the window and watched Joel walk towards the Brick with a bounce in his step she'd never seen before. 

"I hope Maggie's ready for this." Ruth-Anne mused aloud. 

"No kidding. He's gonna ask her to marry him."

She turned her head in surprise. "Lord, Ed, what else did he tell you that you've neglected to share? My goodness! Really?"

"Oh, he didn't tell me that. That's just what comes next in these movies. The guy finally gets the girl in the end, you know?"

Ruth-Anne smiled. "I do, Ed. I do."


	6. Chapter 6

Music was playing softly in the background of the Brick as people settled in for dinner. Alone, in pairs, and a few in larger groups than that. Shelly and Holling were making the rounds, taking orders and bringing drinks out. Holling was manning the bar as well, periodically exiting and re-entering his conversation with Maurice, who was seated there, nursing a glass of scotch. The songs were a selection of old country standards, carefully curated by the group shooting pool towards the back of the restaurant.

Marilyn, Ruth-Anne, and Ted smiled hello at Chris, as he slid into the fourth seat at their table. Ed sat next to Maurice at the bar with his typical glass of milk, intermittently joining in the older men's conversation. It was a quintessential Cicely evening, soon made even more familiar by the sound of the door banging open and the noise that followed it in.

"You are unbelievable, O'Connell! Unfathomable, really. Your conception of reality never ceases to amaze me."

"Why? Because you don't like that I'm right?"

"No, because I literally cannot understand - no, no - I fail to even acknowledge your position here."

Maggie and Joel entered mid-argument, not losing a second to the acts of hanging their coats up or making their way to a vacant booth.

"You think I'm a bad landlord. I know I'm not."

"I don't *think* you are - I know it. I've lived it. How many times did I say I was going to sue you?"

"Over the cabin? Or are we counting the time I broke your nose?"

"Time*s* - plural. You broke my nose twice, if you recall."

In the past, this scene would have gone entirely unnoticed in the Brick. Word of Joel's reappearance had gotten around town, though, as had word that he had gone to the airstrip and that Maggie would be the last to find out he'd come back. And here they were. Together. Consequently, most of the tavern's population fell silent to watch them, heads swiveling back and forth with each verbal volley, like watching a tennis match.

"Not in my capacity as your landlord!"

"You were always my landlord - at all times that I lived in that cabin. Even when I wasn't physically there."

"Well, punching you wasn't some retributive act driven by your tenancy there. And, even if it was - which it wasn't - if you weren't acting like such a jerk most of the time, maybe there wouldn't have been anything for me to retaliate against you for."

"Have you ever read the Alaska Landlord and Tenant Act? I have. Many times. Do you have any concept of how many provisions of that statute you've violated with me? Just me! And I know you rent other properties too."

"Oh have you gone to law school now, too? You are quite literally the only tenant I've had who has ever complained, Fleischman."

Holling brought two waters and menus to their table, his presence hardly noticed as they continued bickering.

"Probably because they all lived in constant fear of what fresh hell you were about to unleash in their homes. You let plumbing issues go unrepaired for weeks on end. There was a hole in my roof. Twice! Two separate times did that happen, during which time my home was in fact left wide open to the elements for days on end. Which, in Alaska, if you've forgotten, includes cold air, rain, bugs, snow, wild animals -"

"You never had animals in that cabin." Maggie pointed at him, then paused to take a sip of of water. "Well, live ones, anyway."

"Thank you! Thank you for helping me add to my list of grievances! The multiple dead rats I had to dispose of. There was also that stove problem that you never fixed. It's probably still broken, for all I know. And now you've rented it to someone else? I had time left on that lease! That's still my cabin, O'Connell."

"Flesichman, you took all of your stuff out and burned it and sent me a goodbye postcard from four thousand miles away. I figured you were planning on terminating that lease in fairly short order. Without the required notice you owed me, either, I want to mention, since you're so hung up on legal technicalities. Plus, why would you want to live there again if I'm such a horrible landlord anyway? I mean, you go out of your way to look for stuff to complain about and you can't even..."

She trailed off as they both fell silent, finally noticing that the rest of the bar patrons were staring at them.

"What?" Joel's face looked irritated, as if he couldn't believe the rudeness of everyone interrupting their conversation by staring. 

Maurice spoke up first, his face a mix of exasperation and disgust - "Well?"

"Well, what, Maurice?" Maggie asked, more nicely, looking genuinely confused. 

Maurice rose from his bar stool to approach their table, drink in hand. "Well? We've all had to observe this idiot soap opera unfolding for the last five years now! You hated each other. You were dating other people. One of those left you and the other one dropped dead. Then you almost slept together and we all had to hear about that. Then she was after that fruit loop in the bubble house but you slept with each other anyway. And everyone had to hear all about that, too, right in this bar, right from the very booth you're sitting in now. Then you were back to arguing again the next day. Next, you were hosting dinner parties together and then you weren't and you were and weren't and on and on and back and forth, right up until you" he pointed at Joel "lost your damn mind and moved up the river to eat bark and then went back to the east coast and then she" he pointed at Maggie "became mayor and moped all around for weeks and now here we all are again. So...well?"

"Well what?" they said in a joint voice, without meaning to.

"Are you two back, a couple again now? Or what? I can't tell what hell is going on with you when you just jaw at each other and argue like that! And I should give less than a good God damn at this point, but with the noise you two make, it's impossible to ignore the both of you. So - well? Are ya?" 

Maggie and Joel exchanged a look, his eyes searching hers for her permission. She raised an eyebrow and shrugged her shoulders. His eyes briefly looked sideways at the staring bar patrons again before meeting hers again. She rolled her eyes in assent. He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off.

"I guess."

"You guess?! Oh that's nice," came his indignant, sarcastic response.

Shelly spoke up, "Really?! Oh Dr. F! You moved all the way back here from New York? Just to be with her?! Oh that is primo romantic... You guys are going to have some seriously bitchin' make up sex later, after all of that!"

"They did. Twice," a quiet voice cut through the room. Every head in the place pivoted now towards the new speaker.

"Marilyn!" Joel looked at her in horror. "What the hell do you think you're talking about?"

"This afternoon. In your office."

"Marilyn! The door was shut!" It was Maggie's turn to object, her face matching the embarrassed expression Joel's had. They'd both flushed pink as Marilyn smirked back at them. Maggie covered her face with her hands.

"Thin walls." Marilyn added.

"Well...well, you're not supposed to be listening through my walls, thick or thin. What about doctor-patient confidentiality?!"

Maggie squinted at him through the spaces between her fingers, "Oh I'm pretty sure I wasn't your patient when we were doing it on your desk, Fleischman..."

Ruth-Anne saw it first, as her hand moved covering her face. "Well, my goodness...is that...Maggie, dear, what is that sparkling on your hand there?"

Maggie pulled her left hand from her face to look at her hand, as if having forgotten. "Oh, that. Yeah, well..."

Joel grinned at Maggie, eyes shining, and she couldn't help but smile back at him. "Does that answer your question, Maurice?" he said, still looking at her.

Maurice was silent for a beat. "Well what in the hell are you two carrying on still arguing like that for, then?"

"Just because I'm marrying him doesn't make him right, Maurice."

"Or her a decent landlord."

"You're still on about that? You don't even need a place if you're going to stay with me anyway."

"It's about the principle of the thing, O'Connell. The legality of you renting my cabin out with my name still on that lease..."

"Keep this up and you're gonna need your own place."

"Hey, you're not getting rid of me this time. I'm yours forever now." He narrowed his eyes at her, teasingly.

"Don't remind me..." she smiled back at him fondly, as her pinkie finger fidgeted with the diamond on its neighbor. His smile grew to his eyes, crinkling at the corners.

"Well, that's settled then. And the less we all hear about it in the future the better." Maurice turned to swagger back to his station next to Ed. The rest of the restaurant slowly came back to life, too, its attention no longer diverted.

"Wait, wait everybody. Hey, an occasion like this - we need a toast," Chris said, rising from his spot at Marilyn's table.

"Oh like hell we do," Maurice grumbled from the bar but half turned back to face the room again.

Chris lifted his glass to continue, "Our mayor engaged to the town doctor? After all this time...it's a funny thing, love, isn't it? You know, one of the Bronte sisters once wrote, 'Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.' Well, I'm guessing Emily's relationship was nothing like our Maggie and Dr. Joel's, was it?" A knowing chuckle made its way through the bar.

"And then the Bible says that 'love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful and endures through every circumstance'. That's a little closer to these two and this moment, but it's from the new testament, when we know Joel here is a more of an old testament kind of guy."

"And so I think we need a poet's take here, Joel, when talking about Maggie. Millay."

Maggie and Joel's eyes widened in surprise, their mouths opening slightly in surprise at the mention of Millay.

"She loves me all that she can / And her ways to my ways resign / But she was not made for any man / And she never will be all mine." Joel gazed at her and nodded slightly, agreeing.

"Welcome home, Doc, and here's to making it forever with the person you can't always live with but also cannot live without - the soon-to-be Dr. and Mrs. Joel Fleischman!" he finished as he raised his glass.

"Well, more like Dr. Joel Fleischman and Ms. Maggie O'Connell, there, Chris," Joel interjected. 

"I was thinking Mrs. Maggie O'Connell-Fleischman, actually," Maggie corrected. Joel quirked his eyebrows in surprise, and she shrugged again, eyes sparkling.

"To whoever the hell you two are, were, or are going to be, cheers and let's drink already. This couldn't be less interesting." Maurice jumped in again, ending the toast authoritatively.

Joel clinked his water glass to Maggie's, winking at her, as those around the bar toasted them as well.

"You sure about this Fleischman?"

"I think we're stuck for sure now that everybody knows about what we did in my office earlier. Plus we did a toast and everything. I think that's actually legally binding up here."

Her smile had faded a little. "No, I mean, New York? Your normal life. You really don't..."

Joel got up and came to her side of the booth to sit next to her, looking serious and taking her hand. "O'Connell, I really don't. I told you. I'm home. This is my choice and where I want to be. This is my normal life. Abnormal as it is... And...I can't be without you, either. I tried. I just can't. I love you too much." His eyes searched hers, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth again. "Plus...I assume there are certain perks to sleeping with the mayor and I intend to take full advantage of those..." He leaned in to kiss her neck, in that spot under her ear that made her crazy.

"Mmmm, there weren't any to sleeping with your landlord..." He chuckled while she turned her head toward him to catch his lips and return his kiss, putting her right hand to his cheek as she moved.

Holling arrived and cleared his throat politely. Maggie tried to break their kiss by pulling back but Joel followed her backwards, sliding his hand from her shoulder to the back of her neck, pulling her closer. She finally put a hand to his chest and pushed him back to a more reasonable distance, his dark eyes protesting as she moved him away. "Sorry, Holling. Hi."

"You both received your letters then?" he asked quietly. "Now you know I'm the last one to pry into the business of other people, but Soapy was very insistent I keep my eye on the both of you and take action when I deemed it necessary, per his instructions. Came close a few times, but when Maurice said you were back in New York, well, I knew the time had come. And now here we are."

"Here we are Holling," Maggie echoed, as Joel kissed the inside of her wrist.

"Soapy was a good friend to me, and I've been glad to ensure his last wishes were done. Strange though they may have been. Now, that said, I do believe my job went on long past when even Soapy imagined it would need to...so in light of that, I'd like to get your collective permission to finish the last task I have."

"There's more?" Joel rolled his eyes. "What, was he your stalker, O'Connell? Why was he so interested in us?"

"I don't know, Flesichman, because I'm sure starting to lose interest in us at this..."

"Before you two start in again, can I just give you this? Let you argue and dine in peace?"

"Sorry, Holling, what is it? Another letter or something?" Maggie was trying her hardest to be polite and participate in the conversation. But Joel's fingertips were making gentle circles on the skin of her back, his hand slipped under the back hem of her shirt. Between that, their prematurely broken kiss, and the way he was shooting looks at her, knowing Holling couldn't see him, she was in a hurry for Holling to go away. She'd almost forgotten that the only thing they did better than argue and wind each other up was this. Almost.

"Just this. A wedding present." He set a box on the table in front of them. "Now I know you've not yet had your nuptials, but having Chris read Bible passages and love sonnets about you in front of the whole town while you stare doe-eyed at each other brings you fairly close to the marital state in my mind. And, again, this bequest has been going on for 5 years now and I just think it's time to wrap everything finally up. So if I have your word that you'll follow through and actually marry each other, you may have this early."

Joel and Maggie's eyes met. "Okay?" she asked him.

"Yeah, I told you. You're stuck with me now. I'm not disobeying another of Soapy's commands either. Let's see what's in there. If it's anything like those wolves he had, though, you can keep them."

"What's mine is yours, now, Fleischman, remember? Just open it."

He reluctantly withdrew his hand from her back and lifted the lid to the plain, handmade wooden box. Inside, on a bed of straw sat a bottle of wine - a 1975 Lafite Rothschild. 

His eyes met hers again, dark and shining. 

"Looks old. Is it any good?" Holling peered into the box.

Maggie, recalling that night, recited, "It's one of the outstanding vintages of all time."

Joel's smile broadened, adding "For French wine anyway."

"Well I'm happy to open it for you, you can have it here with your dinner."

"I think..." Joel began, the look in his eyes making Maggie feel a little woozy, "we might just take this and a lasagna to go, Holling. That all right?"

"Yeah, that sounds nice," she murmured smiling. "Thanks Holling," she said without breaking eye contact with Joel.

"Sure thing, you two. Be right back."

Joel leaned in and kissed her again. Maggie kissed him back, her hand sliding up his bicep. 

"Wait...wait. You know what's strange?" He interrupted her by talking, breaking their kiss to pull back to look at her.

"Mmmm?" she murmured, eyes still closed. "You stopping us doing that when I'm pretty sure it was leading us somewhere fun...

"We're not going to have sex in the middle of the Brick."

"Why not? We almost did that that time in the kitchen." She had look where he couldn't tell whether she was teasing or serious.

His eyebrows shot up. "We're in public!"

"Mmmm...what about your office earlier? That was public..." Her hand had drifted to trace her fingertips along his this thigh, making him seriously question whether she might try to do something right there in that booth, and whether he'd have the self control to stop her.

"That was different - that was Marilyn eavesdropping and bad walls and...I hadn't seen you for weeks and we'd told each other we loved each other and we'd just gotten engaged and you kept looking at me...oh, God...like you are right now...look, hold on." His hand stilled hers on his leg. "Chris' toast. That's what was weird. He quoted Millay."

"Yeah..."

"Well, my mom did, too. Out of the blue. The other day in her kitchen when I was sulking and miserable and ignoring Soapy's letter. When she forced me to talk about what happened with you and set this all into motion. She quoted that one - what lips my lips have kissed. That one about the rain. It was raining outside. It's rained every day since then, across thousands of miles. Wherever I've been. And I've never known my mother to read poetry. I don't think she even knew who she was quoting. She'd just heard that line somewhere. All I could think of, sitting there, was of its last lines...and of you... And here's Chris reciting Millay? I gave you that book of hers once, remember? It's just a strange coincidence. Almost like Soapy's...watching...which is nuts, I know..."

"Huh...You know, I was thinking of something of hers just the other day, too. And about your book. And it was when I was in your office, reading Soapy's letter, same as you. And while we're talking nuts, you know, I tried to ignore that letter of his myself. I've had an absolutely terrible week since. It's rained nonstop here, too. And this morning, I flew through the worst turbulence you can imagine. I came as close as I ever have to feeling scared while flying. Right by Soapy's peaks is where it started, too. And then I swear I heard...on my radio...I don't know. Nevermind."

"So...what did his letter to you say?"

"Why, what did yours say?"

"I don't know...mostly that I'm an idiot and a coward and that he'd set this all up and that we weren't allowed to unwind that which Soapy's hands had brought together. Like he's a demigod or somerhing... He knew I'd take the easy path and told me not to with you...that I had one last chance. That kind of thing."

"Same here. Mostly. You are a coward, though."

He was silent a second, his eyes looking away. "Oh come on, O'Connell," his voice quieter. "Here we're having this nice moment and..."

"Sorry, sorry. Old habits. Hey," she tipped his chin up with her thumb so he'd look at her again. "Look, the truth is...he told me I kept choosing men I didn't love on purpose. And that I needed to finally be with someone I couldn't bear to lose...like you. Stop trying to control things. And trust you'd stay with me."

"I told you, I'm not going anywhere. But maybe I need to ask you...are *you* sure about this? About me? I mean you said yes, but you did once before and..."

"Fleischman..." If he could be honest with her, she owed him at least that much in return. That he was suddenly better able than she to express his feelings threw off the usual balance she was used to. Without him avoiding difficult topics like he usually did, she had had to fall into her mode of changing the course of conversations when she didn't want to deal with something. "I saw you while I was landing and couldn't believe you'd come. I missed you...I was a mess after you left. Even before Soapy's letter. I needed you. And then there you were. And I'm not letting you go again. It wasn't you that was exhausting before...it was being in love with you, not knowing how much longer I'd have you. Yes, I'm sure." She paused. "But you *are* unreasonably afraid of nature, though. And flying. Cooking. Plumbing. Guns. Power tools. Dogs. Animals in general. Me."

"I'll always be a little afraid of you."

"Good. That's what I want." 

"I would have slept with you, you know."

"What, here, earlier?"

"No! That night with Soapy's wine...just while we're putting the past behind us. I'm a coward, but I'm not stupid. I just didn't realize..."

"Oh, you did so realize, and you would not have slept with me! You knew exactly what I was doing that night, and you looked terrified, like you were about to run out into the woods. You wouldn't have cheated on Elaine, either, I know that. Out of principle if nothing else." 

"Okay, but that's probably not much better than cheating, really, if you think about it - wanting to but for the rules stopping me. And it wouldn't have taken much more convincing for me to have done it, really. I definitely wanted to. Wanted you. That night was about a lot more than a bottle of wine. Regardless of what I said the next morning. Just so we're clear."

She leaned in and kissed him again, his hands moving to her hair this time, and hers to trace his jawline. Holling returned and stood awkwardly with a lasagna in a box, waiting for a moment to break in. 

Not finding one, he spoke up, "Now you know I'm gonna have to kick you two out of here if you keep that up."

Joel pulled back, Maggie's hand falling to rest on his chest. She was giving him that look again...

"Sorry...we're leaving, Holling. Thanks. For everything." Joel shook his hand as they stood to leave. They swung their coats on, their movements mirroring each others', and he tucked their dinner against his side, the fingers of his free hand pinching the cloth of her sleeve between them, keeping her close.

"I can't believe he had a second bottle of this stuff," Joel said, watching her fingers grip the neck of the bottle to lift it. "You know I looked it up later, after that night? This is something like a $450 bottle of wine. Incredible."

"I'm just glad we're getting a second chance with it. Hey..." she paused to pull the zipper on his jacket up and down playfully, her hand tracing up and down his chest. Her eyebrow arched as she looked into his eyes. "Let's do things my way tonight, okay? If you'd let me five years ago, we could have saved Holling a lot of time and effort."

"No argument here. For once. Well...at least about that. ...Because, seriously, O'Connell? You really gave away my cabin, just like that? I mean, was it revenge? A monetary thing? What?" 

"Fleischman! Can you ever just let things go?!" She turned and walked out the door. He pushed it open and held it for her as she left, following closely behind.

They stepped out of the front door and down the stairs to the sidewalk below. The rain had finally stopped and the night air was clear, a full moon shining down on them as they walked together, arguing animatedly, hand in hand, their shadows stretching long behind them, along Cicely's Main Street.


End file.
